Tales of the Wonder Club Volume II Part 8

"Why, Jack," said Mr. Oldstone, at the conclusion of our host's recital, "you can tell a story like the best of us."

"Ay, that he can indeed," chimed in Mr. Crucible and Mr. Hardcase.

"There is a great deal of poetry in Jack's story," remarked Mr.

Parna.s.sus.

Mr. Blackdeed said that it ought to be adapted to the stage.

"And was it ever discovered who unearthed you, Jack?" inquired Dr.

Bleedem, who had a fellow feeling for the Dr. Slasher of Jack's narrative, as he could imagine what his own feelings would have been had he fallen a victim to the infuriated villagers.

"No, sir," replied our host, "I never let out the truth, although I was pestered with questions all day long by every one in the village. At length, however, an old doctor in these parts died from the epidemic, and after his death, I gave out to the villagers that he was the man who had dug me up."

"Ah!" said Dr. Bleedem, "there was no harm in that."

"And the two body-s.n.a.t.c.hers, did you ever see _them_ again?" asked Professor Cyanite.

"Ha! ha!" laughed our host, "and that _was_ a joke, surely. One evening, shortly after my resurrection, leastways before everyone knew that I had come to life again, I was strolling through the cemetery alone where I had been buried, and sitting down upon my own grave, I began meditating upon my miraculous escape from death, when who should pa.s.s by but my two friends, Tom and Bill. I looked up as they pa.s.sed. You should have seen how they took to their heels. My eyes! I shall never forget it."

"That was a rare joke, indeed," said our artist, "and that other young fellow, young Rashly, did you see any more of him?"

"Ay, sir," replied our host, "and that was another good joke. The Sunday after our marriage I appeared in the village church with Molly. How the people did stare, to be sure! I recognised young Rashly in the Squire's pew with his father. He could not see me, as I was behind a pillar, and he had not yet heard of my coming to life again. Seeing that he was without a hymn book, I stepped out suddenly from my pew, and crossing the aisle, offered him mine. I never shall forget his face. He turned as pale as a ghost, and was obliged to support himself against the back of the pew. He was nigh fainting, and his father was obliged to lead him out of church."

"Your resurrection must have made quite a sensation in the village then," said McGuilp.

"My word, it did, sir, and no mistake," answered the landlord.

"Everybody in the village and for miles round it wanted to shake me by the hand and welcome me back to life. People used to come from long distances to hear me recount my adventures, till I grew quite sick of it, and shut myself up and wouldn't see n.o.body."

"Ay, ay, tedious work I've no doubt, telling the same story over and over again to every new comer," said Mr. Oldstone. "But tell us, Jack, did young Rashly ever discover who it was that gave him the thras.h.i.+ng?"

"Yes, sir, that, too, came out in time," said our host, "and devilish sheepish he looked, so they said, when he heard it was his old rival in disguise. He would have liked to have had me up about it before the a.s.sizes, but he didn't like the idea of exposing himself, and so the matter dropped. After a time, however, finding that all the boys in the village laughed at him whenever he walked abroad, he went to London, and I have never heard anything more of him."

At this moment someone knocked at the door.

"Come in!" called out several voices at once.

The door opened ajar, and the head of our hostess timidly appeared at the aperture.

"Beg pardon, gentlemen," said that worthy dame, "but could Helen be spared a little just to help me a bit?"

"Oh! how very annoying!" cried our artist, "just as the weather is clearing up and I was making up my mind for a long sitting."

"I am afraid I can't do without her, sir, just now," said our hostess, "but if you wouldn't mind waiting an hour or so, she will be at liberty."

"An hour without Helen!" exclaimed several members at once. "Oh, impossible! and then to be s.n.a.t.c.hed from us again so soon!"

"I'll tell you what it is, Mr. McGuilp, and you, too, Dame Hearty," said Mr. Oldstone, "you are to blame, both of you. Such conduct can't be suffered to go unpunished; therefore, in the name of the club I condemn you both to contribute to the common entertainment by telling a story, each of you, when next called upon."

"Hear, hear!" cried several voices.

"Yes, a story from Dame Hearty, and a still longer one from Mr. McGuilp for having robbed us of Helen--a most just sentence!"

"Oh, gentlemen!" said our hostess modestly. "You wouldn't care to hear any of my stories; besides, I've forgotten them all long ago."

"Come now, Dame Hearty, there is no backing out," said Mr. Oldstone. "A sentence is a sentence."

"Well, sir, if it must be so, I'll try and think of one whenever the gentlemen of this respectable club choose to command my services. Come, Helen!" And our hostess led away her fair daughter by the hand amidst the groans of her ardent admirers.

"Now, Mr. McGuilp," said Mr. Oldstone as the door closed after Helen and her mother, "we have a full hour before us. I call upon you to fill up that period to the satisfaction of the club."

"Yes, yes!" shouted a chorus of voices; "out with it; no mercy on him.

Let justice be done."

"Well, gentlemen, if you will allow me a moment to compose myself, I'll endeavour to satisfy you," said our artist. Then resting his head on his hand as if to call up from the depths of his memory some long-forgotten tale or legend, he said, "Gentlemen, I recollect a story in our family, handed down to me from some remote ancestor. I used to be frightened with it in my childhood. It is long ago now since I heard it related, but I will endeavour to give it you as perfectly as possible after the lapse of so many years."

"Well, we're all attention," said one of the members.

Then our artist, after stretching himself, folded his arms and commenced the following tale--

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER II.

DER SCHARFRICHTER.[1]--THE ARTIST'S SECOND STORY.

A respectable ancestor of mine, far back in the middle ages, went to study at a German university. I cannot call to mind the name of it, but that is of no consequence. I think he studied medicine, but I will not be sure even of that. I know that he belonged to a "chor," or company of students who pride themselves on their liberty, who have their own laws and customs, who fight duels with rival chors, and who settle disputes among themselves by outvying each other in the drinking of beer, who revel in street brawls and other such respectable amus.e.m.e.nts, playing practical jokes upon the peaceful citizens; in fact, making night hideous.

I know not whether my ancestor was any better or any worse than his fellow students, but he seems to have entered with pleasure into all their amus.e.m.e.nts, and never to have held himself aloof when any mischief was going on. He was consequently looked up to rather than otherwise by his companions.

It was the custom then, and still is among Germans, especially among German students, to travel long distances on foot, going together often in large numbers and putting up at night, if they could, at some inn; if not, in some cottage, stables, or loft, with nothing but straw to sleep upon.

But German students are not pampered mortals, and can put up with very homely accommodation. If after a fatiguing day's march a student can find at his quarters sufficient beer, black bread, sausage, raw ham, or a little strong cheese, he is perfectly satisfied. Should he be so fortunate as to light upon a dish of "sauer kraut," he would fancy himself in the seventh heaven.

The German is hardy, yet studious, highly sensitive, and keenly susceptible to the beauties of nature. Though somewhat penurious, he is fond of good fellows.h.i.+p, and is a staunch friend.

The foot tour in Germany is a thing common to all cla.s.ses, from the n.o.bility down to the "handwerksbursch," or journeying mechanic, which latter cla.s.s is often unmercifully persecuted by the university student.

From time immemorial there seems to have been a feeling of animosity between the two cla.s.ses, as nearer home we find existing between the "town and gown."

The German student of the middle ages, as in our times, was fond of swagger, delighted in wearing high boots, enormous spurs, an exaggerated sword, a preposterous hat, was provoked to a duel on the slightest occasion, boasted of the number of "schoppen" or "seidel" of beer that he could stow away beneath his doublet, and ran up long bills without a thought of how they were to be paid.

In those days every student had his guitar or other musical instrument wherewith to serenade his "Liebchen" or lady-love, for that latter article was indispensable to the life of a student, and though much grossness and barbarity has been attributed to him, he is, nevertheless, at times capable of being elevated by a pure and refined pa.s.sion, for he has much poetry in his nature, and is both sentimental and romantic in the extreme.